


Pretty Bird

by floralstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkwardness, Bluebird Cas, Familiar Cas, M/M, Sexual Content, Witch Dean, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralstiel/pseuds/floralstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a wiccan from Detroit, and Cas is his familiar. They kind of have a rough start...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Combination of posts "Pretty Bird" and "Eastern Blue" on tumblr, with an extended intimate scene~ :)

“Your place or mine?”

“Um, excuse me?” Dean spluttered, looking down the grocery aisle, looking for hidden cameras or giggling teenagers or some bullshit because this had to have been a joke.

“ _Your_ place, or _mine_?” The man reiterated, ridiculously enunciating each word like Dean was slow or something, and he was looking at him like he was too.

“I’m sorry, I’m lost, what?” Dean chuckled wryly, still glancing about warily. If this was some prank he would track whoever was responsible and hex them into shoving a rusty nail so far up their—

“Are you dense? Do you wish to bond or not? Actually, I will take no other answer than yes. Finish your errands and let’s go.” He interjected roughly, and Dean was startled at the deep rasp of his voice, definitely didn’t match that exterior. He was a few inches shorter than Dean, with dark flighty hair and blue eyes. He looked ordinary, but…not. There was something a little off about him that Dean couldn’t put his finger on. He looked normal enough in his dark wash jeans and grey logo-free t-shirt, but clothes—Dean had learned the hard way—were a poor way to judge of character.

The man stepped forward and Dean stepped back, and the man clucked his tongue and grabbed Dean’s shopping basket out of his hands. He started walking down the aisle, placing a box of some natural organic wheat shit cereal in with the rest of Dean’s groceries and Dean ran after him, spluttering questions and protests.

“Look, I’ll make this simple for you, since it seems you really are dense as your brother claims.”

“Wait, you know Sam?”

“Don’t interrupt,” he snapped with an icy glare and Dean clamped his jaw so tight he almost bit his tongue. “My name is Castiel Milton, you can call me Cas. I am a familiar, my form is that of a _Sialia sialis_ and if that form is unpleasing to you, too bad I will not change for your comfort. Given that I am your familiar, I was hoping we would go somewhere private as soon as possible to cement the bond.”

“Wait, familiar? How do you know Sam?” Dean stepped closer and hissed furiously, “and what the hell, _how did you find me_?!”

“For a wiccan, you know surprisingly little about magic, Dean. Or about familiars, I might add.”

“And what the heck is a sia…sea…”

“Sialia sialis is the Eastern Bluebird.” Cas answered shortly, obviously already beyond the point of annoyance.

“Whatever, how the hell do I know you aren’t some hunter or something?” Dean asked shortly, already fidgety and nervous. He tried to keep a low profile; he knew about hunters and had seen firsthand what they did to witches who got out of hand. Dean tried to keep his craft use low key, dealing only in the circle and for his few friends he could trust. He never hexed anyone, ever.

“Once we leave the store I’ll prove it to you,” Cas said with a smirk. Dean bit his lip and reluctantly trailed after the man— _familiar_ , wow—when he walked away again. Dean found it hilarious that Cas was not only a bird, but he seemed to eat like one, preferring vegetarian and organic fare over meat, even in the smallest portions. Dean tried to put frozen hot wings in the basket and Cas actually dropped them on the ground with a grimace. Dean growled and tossed them back in the basket, meeting Cas’s eyes, about to chew him out when the man rolled his eyes and left them in the basket.

They spent about an hour in the store, talking and switching the overflowing basket out for a shopping cart when it got too heavy. Dean found interacting with Cas, though difficult—because frankly he was an ass—to be actually sort of entertaining. Dean didn’t get out much, didn’t really have many close friends, besides his brother but he didn’t count obviously. Interacting with Cas was like a breath of fresh air, and being with him felt right, somehow, despite not knowing him.

Cas, thankfully, paid for his own items and Dean swore when he saw the total. That organic crap sure was expensive. Cas scowled at him when he grabbed his bags. Dean quickly paid for his own groceries before following him out of the store.

“So, again, where to?” Cas asked.

“Um, my place I guess.”

Cas nodded and followed Dean to the Impala. Cas glanced at it with a look sort of like a grimace, most likely cringing at the thought of its gas mileage or something, but he slid into the passenger side without comment. Dean smirked when she roared to life, catching Cas’s well controlled flinch when he revved the engine for good measure.

“You like her? She’s my baby,” Dean snarked, pulling out of the lot onto the main road. The town he was sticking to lately was small and lazy, only one main road and shopping area, an hour from anywhere important. He liked it. Cas hummed noncommittally and rolled down his window with a grimace. He leaned against the side of the car, hanging his arm out the window. Dean smiled; since the guy was technically a bird the sight was charming, in a way.

“Weren’t you supposed to prove you were a familiar?” Dean asked. Cas glanced at him and rolled the window back up. Without another word he began to bend, snap, and then suddenly there was a tiny blue bird sitting where Cas had been. Dean swore and the Impala swerved into the other lane. He quickly pulled over and threw the car into park. He turned to the bird and gaped.

“Wow,” Dean breathed.

The bird puffed up and cheeped imperiously, well, as much as a tiny bird could. Dean put his hand down and the bird— _Cas_ —hopped on. His tiny clawed feet tickled a little as he hopped around, and Dean brought him up to his shoulder. Cas jumped off and settled onto his leather clad shoulder, chirping softly in his ear. Dean couldn’t possibly understand bird-talk, but somehow he knew Cas had smugly said, “told you so.” He smiled and pulled back onto the main road.

The following year had been just as awkward and strange as their first conversation. Dean learned that Cas had quit grad school once he felt the pull—something Cas tried to explain but he really couldn’t—and vacated his apartment, severing all ties to his previous life. It had been a hard conversation to get through, and Dean didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day. Cas had cornered him in the kitchen later that night and boxed him between the stove and refrigerator.

“If you think you don’t deserve this then you’re wrong,” he had said softly, stroking his thumb over Dean’s clenched fist. They hadn’t quite made the bond yet. Cas stuck with Dean no matter where he went, slept in his apartment, ate his food, breathed his air, but they hadn’t joined completely. Dean swallowed and looked away from Cas’s face. He was trying so hard to be good for Dean, when Dean was the one who needed to be good for _him_. Cas had dropped everything, his home, his family, his future career, all to be with Dean. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, scratching at his stubble.

“I’m trying, man, I am. I just…”

“You never thought you’d have a familiar for your own?” Cas finished, quirking an eyebrow, daring Dean to tell him he was wrong. Dean nodded and Cas sighed. Before Dean could recoil or try to push away Cas was holding him, less like a hug and more like a loose embrace. Cas laid his head on Dean’s shoulder and swayed a little.

“I’m here now. I can fill in that empty feeling you have, deep in your heart that you’ve always had. I can feel it in you even now. You don’t have to suffer anymore, Dean.” Cas whispered to him. Dean nodded again and Cas’s arms tightened only slightly before he let go. He stepped back a little and watched Dean’s face closely for a moment then he smiled, patting his arm before going to bed, telling Dean they would do it tomorrow.

Dean couldn’t sleep at all. He tossed and turned for the entire night before he huffed and tugged on his boots and jacket a little after 8 in the morning. He usually drove to clear his head, but he actually had a purpose in mind. He pulled up to the little antique shop on the outskirts of town. He knew the couple who owned the shop, and also knew they kept weird hours, and even if they still weren’t open yet, they’d let him in. He had cleared a great number of their stock of hexes and curses, so they owed him big. He saw the closed sign on the door and knocked on the glass, peering into the dark shop, noticing a few of the new items he had cleared just last week, a few with Cas’s help. Being with Cas helped him focus. He couldn’t describe the feeling, but he felt more powerful, sharp, more familiar with his power with Cas near. He saw Mrs. Jones walking steadily toward the front, leaning heavily on her cane. Dean would have felt guilty about making her come unlock the door, but she was pretty spry for her age.

“Dean,” she cooed as she let him inside, “what can I do for you this fine morning?”

“I’m looking for a ring.”

“Not just any ring, I suspect.”

“No ma’am.”

She hummed and beckoned for him to follow. He walked behind her and tried not to stare at too many of the items in the shop. A few he was familiar with, and too many he wasn’t. He couldn’t clear them all for the kind old couple, and to be honest he was a little worried for their safety, but he had told them what to look for, and they would call if they noticed anything funny.

“Here we are,” Mrs. Jones said, pulling out a dusty old box from behind the register, setting on the counter. Dean flexed his fingers, a bit nervous to be touching such an old thing without knowing about it first, but he swallowed his fear and opened the box. He couldn’t feel any residual witchcraft on it or anything inside of it, and he relaxed. Immediately he eliminated the gaudy, jewel encrusted rings from the collection, focusing more on the simpler bands of gold and silver. There was one that caught his eye. It was about the right size, little more than a simple gold band, slightly worn with age but would shine with a quick buff job. There was something carved into the inside of the band and he plucked it from the pile to take a closer look.

“Forever,” Dean read out loud, and Mrs. Jones chuckled.

“Obviously it wasn’t forever if it made its way into my shop.”

Dean laughed and fished out his wallet.

“How much for it Mrs. Jones?” He asked, but she shook her head and waved him away.

“No, no boy you take it. As much as you’ve done for us you deserve something on the house.” She grinned at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. He pocketed the ring and his wallet and thanked her before leaving the shop. He knew what he had to face once he got back to his apartment, what he was going to be facing for the rest of his life, but he knew now that he wanted it, he wanted it with all his heart it was actually kind of scary and he had to pause for a few minutes once he pulled into the lot. He looked up at where he knew his unit was and saw the window open. Cas must have gone out for a quick fly before breakfast.

He quickly made his way up the stairs, fingering the ring in his pocket and gnawing on his lip in nervousness. He was acting like such a girl it was ridiculous, but he didn’t want to fuck things up, he wanted Cas, and he wanted things to be perfect. He opted out of making eggs for himself that morning, seeing as every time he did Cas fixed him with this withering glare that left him feeling incredibly guilty as he shoved forkfuls in his mouth. Pancakes. Cas liked pancakes.

He heard a flutter and then that telltale whoosh of air as Cas transformed into his human form. He had never thought to ask, but he wondered which was more real to Cas, which form he preferred. He would have to ask later.

“Dean,” Cas greeted, and Dean nearly dropped the spatula. He always forgot how deep and rough Cas’s voice was, especially in the mornings. It was such a strange juxtaposition to his high trills and birdsong he took to singing while he was a bird.

“You weren’t here when I woke, I began to worry.”

“Sorry, Cas, I had a little errand to run.”

Cas didn’t reply and Dean heard him shuffling around by the cabinets, most likely getting their plates and cups out. It still bothered him how in tandem they were. Cas could finish his sentences, could retrieve things for him before he even thought to ask, and always knew when Dean needed his space, though those moments was becoming increasingly small in number. Dean touched his pocket to feel the ring, reminding himself that it was there so he wouldn’t chicken out before he put all the pancakes on a platter to bring to the table. He turned and Cas was already waiting for him. He was looking strangely at Dean, like he didn’t know what to make of him. Dean ignored him for the moment and sat down, pouring himself a liberal glass of orange juice from the carafe and chugged it all, deliberately looking everywhere else but Cas.

“Dean,” Cas huffed and Dean held up a finger, swallowing the last of the orange juice.

“Gimme a second, Cas.”

“Dean.”

“Just hold on, okay?!”

Cas sighed and leaned back in his seat, fiddling with the drawstrings on his sweatpants. Dean swallowed again for good measure before he stuck his hand in his pocket.

“I, uh,” Dean stopped to clear his throat and Cas rolled his eyes, “I did some reading on familiars and I saw that it helps if the witch gives the familiar something, you know? Something to hold onto or wear, that it, um, makes the bonding that much easier.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said, looking nonchalant as always, but Dean could literally feel the rushing undercurrent of anticipation and excitement. Dean swallowed and reached into his pocket. When Cas saw the ring he froze and glanced at Dean’s face then back down to the ring.

“Um, I’m not that great at, you know…”

“Yes,” Cas said again, breathless.

“But will you…do you want to…ah fuck it, do you want to be my familiar and bond with me?” Dean grunted. Cas took the ring from Dean’s hand and put it on—thankfully he had enough tact to know it wasn’t anything like a marriage proposal and he put it on his right index finger—and had time to gasp a quick “yes” before their power clashed and Dean blacked out.

When he came to he felt so different. He was laying down on the couch, and it was as if he was feeling it, but seeing it all at once, like he wasn’t in his body at all.

“Easy,” he heard Cas rasp from somewhere to his left and he felt around with his hand till Cas took it, and Dean instantly relaxed when he felt the ring.

“So did we…?” Dean asked, and his voice was freakishly hoarse and he felt like he was run over by a truck, but he felt _good_.

“Yeah, yeah we did.” Cas smiled. “We did.”

 

_-3 years later-_

“So which came first?”

“Excuse me?”

“The chick or the bird?”

The bluebird on Dean’s shoulder chirped and nipped his earlobe and Dean tapped its beak.

“Buddy,” Dean sighed, standing and slapping a few bills down on the table, “that ain’t your business to ask.”

He sauntered out of the bar, feeling the bird hop around on his shoulder, most likely turning to puff up and give that asshole the best ugly look a bird could muster.

“Come on Cas, chill out. Not his fault, most people can’t tell if birds are guys or girls.”

The bird chirped even louder and pecked furiously at Dean’s neck, plucking a few strands of his hair.

“Hey, hey! Knock it off,” Dean grunted, brushing him off his shoulder. Cas fluttered down and landed on the asphalt, glaring up at Dean with his beady little bird eyes.

“I don’t like that place anyway,” Dean grumbled, fishing his keys out of his jacket pocket. Cas flew around the Impala, and when Dean slid inside Cas was already waiting, back in his human form.

“That’s not why I’m angry, Dean.”

Dean snorted and started the car.

“It was none of that man’s business at all, and I am not dense, I know what he was insinuating from such a query.”

“Oh I love it when you use big words on me,” Dean smirked.

“Dean,” Cas sighed.

“I know,” Dean said. He had known what the man had been insinuating, especially since he had assumed Cas was female. “We don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. That place is full of assholes like that.”

Cas smiled slightly and looked out the window as they drove home. They drove in silence, but then again they didn’t really need to speak, not really. Familiars were special. They had intense bonds with their masters, and Dean liked to think he and Cas had something special, more so than some master-servant relationship. Cas was his everything, his confidant, the one who calmed him from the worst of his nightmares, balanced his powers when they rocketed out of control, and his lover. Not every witch had a sexual relationship with their familiars, but it wasn’t unheard of either. Besides, it’s not as if it had always been that way; they had attempted even the smallest bit of sexuality in their relationship only recently, and they both obviously wished they had done it sooner.

Dean pulled into his apartment complex; parking and not even needing to remind Cas before the familiar switched seamlessly back into his bird form. The super didn’t like it that somehow two people lived in an apartment leased only to one person. Pets were allowed though, that’s a plus. Dean remembered laughing at that as he signed the lease with Cas perched on his shoulder, and Cas had bit him so hard he started bleeding, the bastard. Dean jogged up the steps to his floor with Cas nestled on his shoulder, a warm, reassuring weight that always set Dean’s mind at ease. By the nature of their relationship alone Dean could feel Cas’s annoyance and dismay. Cas was a private person, and took to his bird form whenever they were in public, which wasn’t that often; Dean preferred to work from home. Having their relationship so baldly hinted at had set him off, but Dean was always quick to soothe his familiar’s ruffled feathers.

Cas flew ahead of Dean into the apartment and changed midair. Dean loved to watch him do it, to see all that gorgeous blue plumage stretch and turn till an equally gorgeous man stood in front of him, a show Cas knew Dean appreciated. Cas turned his head and saw Dean staring. He smiled and looked away, already know what Dean was thinking. Dean followed him into the bedroom and shut the door behind him, watching Cas strip down to his faded blue boxers and undershirt.

Dean flexed his power without really thinking about it—as usual—and pushed Cas onto the bed and he fell with a gasp. The familiar turned onto his side and, though he was frowning, Dean could see the lust in his eyes.

“My beautiful blue angel,” Dean whispered, loving the way Cas shivered at the nickname, which was partially Dean’s fault; he never called him that outside of the bedroom.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, and immediately Dean was there, yanking off the rest of his clothes to get to his skin, flushed from both embarrassment and arousal. He was always so smooth, and he smelled like rain and freshly laundered cotton. He peppered Cas’s jaw and neck with quick pecks of kisses, smirking when Cas whined and tried to pull Dean over so their bodies could press together, inseparable for the rest of the night.

Dean smiled and kissed him on his plump, always slightly chapped lips. The brush of their lips was so gentle and soft, the complete opposite of the frenzy Dean wanted, but he made sure to kiss Cas like this every day. He showed Cas how important he was with his lips, his tongue, fingers and body. Cas was his everything, he would be so completely lost without him, and he loved him fiercely. He wanted Cas to know that in more ways than just what their bond could communicate. He wanted Cas to know he wasn’t just some pretty bird on his shoulder, or even just a familiar. He had changed into something deeper.

Dean eased himself out of his own clothes, throwing them around the room, focusing again on Cas; writhing, beautiful, pretty bird Cas with his eyes as blue as his plumage. Dean caressed his cheekbone with a thumb before kissing him again, harder, pulling Cas’s boxers down one handed.

He sat back as he pulled them off, watching as that last bit of cream smooth skin was revealed for him. He ducked down and sucked a mark onto the jut of Cas’s hipbone, biting and licking his way down, avoiding Cas’s erection entirely and the familiar whined, begging him for it. Dean was all too eager to give, and by the time he finished Cas was a writhing, panting mess with his legs spread to accommodate Dean’s broad shoulders and he was pulling Dean’s hair too hard, his noises a touch too loud, but Dean loved it.

He fumbled in the bedside table drawer and took out the lube and a condom, not even having time to say anything before Cas snatched the lube and prepared himself, and _damn_ , Dean had to grasp the base of his cock at the sight of Cas writhing on his own fingers, getting himself all wet and stretched for his witch. Dean tore open the condom package and rolled it on, hissing at even that small amount of contact on his cock; he was already so fucking close. He hated using a condom, he wanted to feel every bit of Cas both inside and out, but it was safe and Cas insisted on it, and Dean always did was Cas asked.

Cas pulled his fingers out and grasped Dean’s shoulders, fingernails raking down his back as Dean pushed in, slowly, always so slow and gentle with his bluebird. Cas let out a strangled moan when Dean finally bottomed out, rubbing circles on his hips to soothe him and distract him from the ache of it. No matter how many times they did this Cas was still always so tight. Sometimes their roles were reversed, but Dean could always tell the nights when Cas wanted to get taken, and Dean prided himself in knowing and being enough to satiate his familiar’s desires.

When he started to move Cas groaned and tossed his head, Dean already starting a punishing pace, probably a bit too fast but he was so close, so, so close. Dean leaned his head forward to watch as he slid in and out of his lover’s body, rhythmic and smooth, and he watched the way Cas clenched his fists in the sheets, anywhere he could get a hold of and the entirety of his body shuddered and shivered and his cock was leaking all over his stomach, so wet and practically there. Dean touched the tip, smearing the precome around with his thumb and stroked him lightly and then Cas was just _gone_.

He came in quick spurts, body locked tight and his face was screwed up in almost painful pleasure. He held his breath for the entirety of it and finally shouted and whined when Dean thrust as deep as he could, groaning out his own release. Dean collapsed and barely had the energy to roll off to the side when Cas weakly complained. He took off the condom and tossed it with utter distaste and Cas chuckled at him. They lay exhausted in each other’s arms, rapidly cooling in the air-conditioned room and after a minute or so Cas huffed against Dean’s neck.

“I had thought it common knowledge that male birds were the more colorful of the two genders.”

Dean laughed and pulled the comforter over them both, tucking Castiel close to his chest, breathing in his scent before falling asleep.

 


End file.
